Book of Days
by wildsky
Summary: The history book of the Outer Zone. Chapter 1: "Heart". How did Nick Chopper become the Tin Man?


**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**Heart**

"Nick!" a wary voice called out. "You've got company."

The woodsman in question halted mid-swing, lowering his axe to glance back over his shoulder. He wiped away the sheen of sweat on his brow with the back of his hand and broke into a grin when he saw who was approaching.

Nimmie jumped into his arms with a shout of laughter and the axe fell to the ground, forgotten, as Nick found her lips with his. He smiled against her mouth as catcalls of encouragement erupted behind them. Nimmie's cheeks were pink by the time that he set her down, her nose barely coming up to his shoulder.

"All right, all right, that's enough of that," the man in charge said sternly, shooing them away with a look that was both kind and resigned. "He'll be useless unless you let him walk you back and I know your mistress doesn't like you to dawdle, Nimmie."

The girl shot the older man a grateful smile and grasped Nick's hand, tugging him along with her. "Thank you, Dirk," she said sweetly, giving him a peck on the cheek as they passed.

"I won't be long, sir," Nick promised, which only made Dirk snort skeptically. Nick lifted an eyebrow at the man, who looked completely unrepentant as he went back to work.

The second they were out of sight, Nick pulled Nimmie close for another lingering kiss.

"I could do this with you for the rest of my life," Nick murmured against her mouth. He drew back and let his fingers trace the curve of her cheek. "Then I wish time would stop and we could stay in this moment forever."

"I love it when you say things like that," Nimmie laughed softly, eyes shining as she looped her arms around his neck. "My silver-tongued woodsman… Tell me more."

Nick grinned ruefully. "I never talked like this before I met you."

"Oh, so this is all _my_ fault?" Nimmie teased, delighted.

"Absolutely," Nick agreed, his lips touching the pulse-point of her throat. "All. Your. Fault."

Nimmie smiled and guided his mouth back up so she could claim it with her own. Nick rumbled in approval, finally pulling back to gaze down into her eyes.

"Ladies first," he said gallantly, one side of his mouth lifting in a lopsided grin. He bowed liked a knight of old, gesturing for her to precede him. Executing a courtly curtsey in return, Nimmie did exactly that.

As they moved deeper into the woods, Nick snaked his arm around her waist, bringing her close to his side. "I thought it was Lydia's turn to get some sunshine this week," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her soft brown hair. She smelled like peaches and freshly-tilled earth, owing to the fact that she and her fellows were only allowed above-ground for limited periods. It was a strange scent that he had become fond of.

"I may have bribed her," Nimmie admitted with a half-smile, reclaiming the basket of supplies she had left well outside of the circle of lumberjacks. Not that any of them would have dared to touch it, knowing whom she served. Nick quickly took the load from her and was rewarded with another swift kiss. "I wanted to see you," she confessed in a whisper. "I missed you."

Nick paused, his blue eyes gazing down into brown as he reached up to stroke her hair away from her face. "You're not going to get in trouble for this, are you?"

Nimmie bit her lip. "I hope not," she admitted, averting her gaze. "She knows we have to eat."

"Nimmie…" Nick sighed in frustration. His jaw clenched. "I hate living like this. I hate being afraid that she'll lock you away and I'll never see you again."

"It's not that bad," Nimmie protested lamely, sounding feeble to both of them. She caught the doubtful look on Nick's face and rushed onwards. "It's not! She hasn't hurt one of us in…"

"Days?" Nick prompted her, his eyes stormy with anger and worry. "Weeks? How long until she gets bored again?"

"I don't want to talk about this," Nimmie choked out, pushing away from him to continue walking through the trees. "Change the subject."

"To what?" Nick demanded, stalking after her.

"Anything. Just not _her_!"

"Well, that rules out the entire Munshin province since she rules it, your friends and family because she terrifies them, our wedding since you say she won't let that happen –"

Nimmie spun on her heel, brown hair flying. "Stop it! We've fought the last two times we've seen each other. I don't want to do it a third time."

"I don't want to fight with you," Nick told her.

"Then what do you want from me?" Nimmie asked in despair.

"I want you to marry me," Nick reminded her, stepping forward to cup her face lovingly with his hands. "Remember? I asked you and you said yes."

"Well, I shouldn't have," Nimmie said, her voice shaking. "Not while I'm bound."

"You could ask her to release you," Nick replied stubbornly, dropping his hands to his sides.

"The Witch of the East?" Nimmie sounded incredulous. "Two minutes ago you were afraid that I'd get in trouble for coming to see you. Now you want me to ask her for my freedom?" Nimmie shook her head vehemently. "She's not Glinda or Locasta. This is _Nessa_ we're talking about. If I just do what she wants, she might decide to let me go eventually –"

"You could grow old and die before that happens," Nick argued. "We can't build a life like this, stealing a few minutes here and there." He sucked in a deep breath at the enormity of what he was about to suggest. "What if we ran away? Went somewhere outside of the Outer Zone? Somewhere she doesn't have any power?"

Nimmie blinked up at him, dark eyes glassy with fear. "She'd kill us."

"Not if she can't find us," Nick persisted.

Nimmie pursed her lips and turned away, moving towards her destination once again. Nick let out the breath he'd been holding slowly and let her wander ahead of him, knowing she would stop speaking to him entirely if he pushed any further than he already had. They had never argued until he proposed but he was learning fast.

Sometimes she got angry. Mostly she got upset. Angry he could handle. Upset just broke his heart. He hated seeing her cry. It made him want to do anything to make her stop. The problem was that he needed to hold firm or she'd slip through his fingers like sand. She was too afraid of the Witch to take a stand.

It was frustrating, to say the least. He knew she loved him. He knew she wanted to be with him. The fact that she had agreed to marry him testified to that fact. In that moment, she had forgotten everything else and answered based solely on her feelings for him. It had only been later that reality started to make her doubt the decision.

After a minute or so of silence, Nick began closing the gap between them, his longer strides easily bringing him level with Nimmie.

"You came all the way here to see me. You might as well talk to me," Nick said, watching her profile. Her lips thinned.

"I don't want you to get hurt," Nimmie finally confessed. "Why can't you understand that?"

"Actually, I understand too well," Nick replied thoughtfully. "Why do you think I want to get you away from her so badly?"

She sighed, sounding far too old for one so young. "What are we going to do, Nick?"

Nick reached out and twined her fingers with his. "I was hoping that we'd figure this out and live happily ever after. Is that really so much to ask?"

Nimmie squeezed his hand and turned, hugging him tightly, as if she were afraid he would go up in smoke if she let go. "It can't be wrong to be happy," she whispered. "Can it?"

"No," he said firmly, refusing to allow her to believe such a travesty, even for a moment. "It's not."

After what seemed like an eternity, Nimmie finally released him, stepping back to look him in the eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too," he told her, meaning it with every fiber of his being.

She nodded and looked away. Nick followed her gaze and found what had eluded him – the glimmer in the air that marked the doorway.

Nimmie stepped through the portal and Nick could only watch helplessly as his love was swallowed up by Delathrin, the subterranean labyrinth the Witch of the East called home.

* * *

"You want to _what_?"

"I'm going to ask the Witch to set Nimmie free," Nick repeated, his voice ringing with conviction.

William Chopper stared at his son in undisguised horror, absolutely stupefied by the concept. "Nicholas, please, for the love of Lurline, think about what you're saying," he pleaded. "Use your gods-damned head for a change. This is crazy talk."

"Are you saying I'm crazy for wanting to marry Nimmie?" Nick shot back defensively.

"Of course you are!" William replied in frustration. "I told you to stay away from that girl. A Witch's servant is no woman to go courting! You're going to get yourself killed. A fine husband you'll make when you're in your grave."

"The point is that I can't be a husband while she's enslaved in Delathrin," Nick argued. "If I'm going to marry her, it's my duty to protect her."

"Don't be ridiculous. You can still be a husband. Just pick someone else. Someone free."

Slow to anger, Nick was nonetheless glaring at his father. "There isn't anyone else. I love Nimmie."

"Son, you need to learn to pick your battles," William persisted, his brow creased with worry. "If you enter the Labyrinth, there's no guarantee that you'll come out again. I'd lay odds against it. You don't ask the Witch of the East for favors. You stay out of her way."

"What way? She never leaves Delathrin," Nick protested.

"You think that because you don't see her walking down the street that she doesn't leave the Labyrinth? I didn't raise you to be a fool, boy. Magic is nothing to be trifled with."

"You know, we hear a lot about the Witches of the Compass Points being powerful but when was the last time you heard of any of them doing anything?" Nick scoffed, exasperated. "The Loreley is supposed to be as gifted as any of them. If that's the case, why doesn't she drive the Wicked Witches out of the Zone altogether?"

Deep down, Nick knew he was reaching. The ruling House of Loreley had co-existed peacefully with the Four since the dawn of the Outer Zone if the legends had it right.

"Watch your tongue," William reprimanded him sharply. "I'll not have you speaking against our Ozma as well as taking on with this nonsense. Are you saying your Nimmie is telling tall tales then? That she's lying about Nessa's power?"

"Nimmie has never said anything about power," Nick corrected him. "She's vague about that kind of thing. All I know is that Nessa hurts the women who serve her. She punishes them to entertain herself. I can't leave her there."

"You're not going anywhere near Delathrin," William snapped. "I forbid it."

"I'm not ten annuals old anymore, Father," Nick shot back as he got to his feet. With one final hard glance at the man who raised him, the woodcutter strode out of the door.

"Damn it all to the Nethers, Nick, come back here right now!" William shouted after him. "_Nicholas!_"

When there was no reply, William hurried towards the back of the house to find his wife.

"Mary! Talk some sense into your son!"

* * *

Nick ignored the arguments his parents hurled at his back as they trailed him through the Old Starling Forest. His eyes swept his surroundings, searching for the portal Nimmie had used to travel back to the Labyrinth. No-one really knew where Delathrin itself was. It was too far to reach on foot from the township of Meander, that was for sure.

For all the times he'd seen Nimmie disappear into the gateway, Nick had never quite gotten the hang of spotting it on his own. It always seemed to blend into the greenery, camouflaging itself against prying eyes. Nimmie had told him that she was supposed to see it, so she always found it easily. He figured that meant that he wasn't supposed to see it, so it was going to hide from him.

"Nick, please," his mother begged, panting as she almost jogged to keep up with her long-legged husband and son. "Come home. You're never going to find it."

Nick's jaw tightened but he refrained from answering. Nothing he had said had swayed them thus far and he doubted anything he could add would help. As far as they were concerned, it was a fool's errand. Many times Nick had overheard people calling him a romantic idiot. He really couldn't argue with them – not when he was stalking through the forest in search of the lion's den, so to speak.

Gods, he knew he was doing something stupid. His parents were shouting it at him. Nimmie had told him over and over. Why wouldn't it sink in? Why couldn't his brain overrule his heart?

The answer was far too simple. He loved Nimmie. Unashamedly, unreservedly. Enough to make this ridiculously risky gesture because waiting around would not yield him what he wanted. He wasn't so naïve as to believe this couldn't backfire spectacularly. But if it _did_ work, he and Nimmie would be free. Free to live and to love.

That last thought spurred him on with renewed vigor.

_Come on, where are you hiding?_

Nick's eyes cast about restlessly, looking for the glimmer that seemed no more substantial than a trick of the light. He knew this forest well yet he would swear that the trees and trails had moved whenever he came near the gateway.

"Nick, how can you do this to your mother?" Mary wailed from behind him and despite his determination, her fear for him tugged at his conscience. "Stop right now or I'll never speak to you again!"

Nick paused for a split-second at the threat, then shook his head and plunged onwards.

_Delathrin_, he thought as hard as he could, as if he might be able to conjure up the door. _Please, let me in_…

The breeze picked up and rustled the leaves, as if the trees were whispering about him. Boughs creaked from above, lending a throaty thread to the whistling of the wind.

A shimmer caught his eye and Nick immediately came to a halt, trying to focus on it.

"Oh, thank the gods," his mother sighed, misreading the motion. "Now come home this instant."

Instead, Nick stepped forward and reached out to touch the strange phenomenon. It was slightly out of focus, as if his eyes weren't functioning properly. It felt cool and yet it wasn't solid.

"Nick!" William's voice had taken on a desperate edge. "Nick, come away from there!"

Mary started crying and Nick closed his eyes. He couldn't stand it when his mother cried. He turned and enfolded her in a hug, willing her to understand.

"I'm sorry," he murmured truthfully, "but I have to do this."

She clung to Nick as he made to let her go. In the end, William had to peel his wife away and hold her, his expression stony as he stared at his stubborn son.

"Nick, please don't go in there," William tried one last time. "She's not worth it."

Nick stared at them long and hard, from his father's grave face to his mother's despairing tears. Then he stepped through the door, his mother's sobs ringing in his ears.

Everything seemed to spin crazily for a moment and then he was standing in an antechamber, surrounded by smooth grey rock on all sides. Behind him, the wall shimmered slightly, marking the way out. In front of him was a stone archway and what appeared to be a long corridor, lined on both sides by lit torches.

Nick moved forward cautiously, unsure of what might lie ahead. Tales of the Labyrinth abounded in the eastern provinces, some more fantastical or frightening than others. On one thing alone did they agree.

_Getting in is the easy part_, the stories cautioned. _It's getting out that poses a problem_…

Nick drew himself up, squared his shoulders and with a deep breath stepped determinedly through the arch.

When nothing jumped out at him, Nick relaxed a little. The torches flickered slightly, their light caressing the cool stone, but nothing more threatening materialized. One stride after another took him deeper. He soon lost all sense of how far he had walked. There were no turns, no curves or forks. Straight as an arrow, the hallway seemed never-ending.

Nick spun slowly on the spot, catching sight of strange markings carved into the ceiling. He didn't recognize any of them. The Ancients' language perhaps? The legends said that the Witches were immortal but surely nothing could live forever… He wondered briefly what the script said but didn't dwell on the mystery. Unanswerable questions would not be of any use to him. He kept walking, figuring that anything that had a beginning must have an end.

Yet none was forthcoming. The hall went on and on for what could have been minutes or hours. Nick had no idea how long he'd been walking but he was beginning to feel it.

"Hello?" Nick called out uncertainly, hoping that someone or something could hear him. "I need an audience. Please."

And just like that, something shifted. Another archway appeared to his left and he could clearly see a room on the other side. Relief flooding him, Nick hurried across the threshold.

The chamber was immense. Vaulted ceilings with ornate pillars and carvings. The floor was an incredibly intricate and realistic mosaic that seemed to depict the night sky of the Outer Zone. He could see the constellations, silvery stars glittering against their blue-black bed. For a moment he simply stared at his surroundings, the majesty of it taking his breath away.

In the end, it was the dais that caught and held his attention. It rose up like an altar of obsidian, crowned with a throne of the same crystalline black. The closer Nick got, the more detail he could make out. It was a work of art, decorated with small carvings in the same strange language that had lined the ceiling of the corridor.

Nick was only a few feet from the onyx steps that led up to the throne when a being seemed to coalesce out of thin air, taking the shape of a woman in the time it took for him to draw his next breath.

Nick wasn't sure what he had expected. A crone, perhaps? A creature that defied description? Nimmie didn't like to talk about the Witch and often refused to refer to her by name, as if the woman might be able to hear her from the depths of Delathrin. So he was surprised to discover that the Witch of the East was beautiful.

Lustrous black hair and eyes to match, delicate features and a warm bronzed cast to the skin. Dressed in robes of red and vermilion, she was a striking figure indeed.

"You requested an audience. Speak," Nessa commanded in an even tone that broke the illusion of splendor. Her glacial voice sent a shiver down his spine. Nick tried to untie his tongue and seconds ticked by, the silence stretching on.

The Witch didn't move a muscle. She simply continued watching him with an unreadable expression on her face. Nick began to sweat and gulped down a lungful of air. It was now or never.

"I'm here to request that you free Nimmie Amee," he finally blurted out.

Nessa tilted her head slightly, regarding him with the steady gaze of a predator stalking prey, and Nick felt his stomach twinge in warning.

"I see." The words were measured, giving away no hint of her thoughts. "And why would you do such a thing?"

Nick braced himself and sent up a prayer to Lurline. His insides were becoming more agitated with every passing moment and he didn't really know why. She had not said or done anything remotely threatening. "I'm her betrothed."

"Ah."

Nessa lifted one elegant hand and snapped her fingers. Nimmie appeared out of thin air, her head bowed subserviently. Nick's heart leapt at the sight of her.

"Yes, mistress?" she asked, never taking her eyes off the floor.

Nessa, on the other hand, never took her eyes off Nick. "We have a guest, Nimmie," the Witch said calmly. "Greet him."

Nimmie obediently looked up. She blinked, startled, when she recognized him and he saw the color leech from her skin, panic washing over her entire body. She shook her head in frantic denial, her head snapping towards the Witch.

"No, please, whatever he asked for, he didn't mean it!" Nimmie said in a rush. "I beg you to let him leave –"

Nimmie shrieked as she was driven to her knees by the force of the Witch's will, her cries dissolving into whimpers as thick black twine erupted around her mouth, sewing her lips closed. Pinpricks of blood dotted the skin where it had been pierced and tears of pain rolled down her cheeks as she subsided into muffled sobs.

Nick didn't realize he'd been shouting in protest until the Witch fixed him with ice-cold eyes and hissed "Silence!"

Nick's heart felt like it might pound its way out of his chest as he forced himself to look at Nessa, who gazed down at him from her ebony throne like a queen.

_She's not Glinda or Locasta. This is _Nessa_ we're talking about_, Nimmie had said. He should have listened, should have taken her fears more seriously. Now his love was on the floor, crying and in pain, while the Witch looked on, unruffled by what she had done. Three words – "I'm her betrothed" – and Nessa had crushed his hopes in less than ten syllables.

"You have asked for the life of one of my servants," Nessa said serenely. "Whose do you offer in return?"

Nick went cold as he realized what she was implying. "W-what?" he stammered in disbelief.

"I do not give without taking," Nessa informed him. "A life for a life."

Nick swallowed hard, his mouth dry as a desert. "I… I can't…" Never in his wildest dreams had he believed that the Witch would demand such a price. He knew he was not capable of delivering someone into an eternity of servitude in Nimmie's place.

"Then she is mine," Nessa replied, sounding eminently reasonable. "Begone."

"Wait!"

The word erupted from him, almost panic-stricken, when she began to fade. The Witch resolidified, her dark eyes betraying a hint of amusement as she watched him.

"Yes, Nicholas?"

The way Nessa said his name made his skin crawl. From her corner, Nimmie whimpered in despair, shaking her head wildly. Nick gazed at his love, his heart in his eyes, and made his decision.

He couldn't leave her there. Not after seeing the Witch's treatment of her for himself. Yet he knew himself to be incapable of sacrificing the life of another. Freedom would be Nimmie's but he would not share it with her.

"Take me," Nick said, his voice shaking as he looked straight at the Witch. "Let her go and take me."

The Witch smiled – a cold, satisfied smile that chilled Nick to the bone – and inclined her head in agreement.

"Done," Nessa declared and the word echoed ominously off the walls. She clapped her hands and Nimmie vanished, leaving behind nothing except the tears the girl had shed on the floor. The Witch got to her feet in one fluid motion and descended the stairs with a grace Nick could never have mistaken for natural.

Nick was taller than she by several inches but he had never felt smaller in his life than when she approached him; a spider spinning silk around her victim. Black eyes met blue and he shivered.

"I have marvellous plans for you, Nicholas."

* * *

The huddled, weeping woman who came stumbling through the portal startled William and Mary badly. She crumpled immediately, her brown hair falling forward like a curtain to obscure her features. They immediately stooped to support her, Mary sweeping her hair aside as William asked for any news of their son.

Nimmie couldn't speak a word through the bloodied stitches.

* * *

Time lost all meaning within the confines of Delathrin.

Nick's voice was hoarse from screaming, his wrists bloodied from endlessly struggling against the shackles the Witch had conjured to restrain him as she played with him.

He had caught glimpses of those who had come before him. Mangled, deformed, some driven mad by rage and pain, all kept in cells like animals. Failed experiments, Nessa called them.

It felt like his insides were on fire. They twisted and roiled, his flesh somehow holding in the torturous heat that wound its way through his veins. He curled up on the floor, his body wracked by spasms that made him clutch at the cold stone floor that had become his bed after the Witch had claimed him.

For the first time in his life, he wanted to die. He wanted it to be over.

Nick summoned up Nimmie's image, holding her close in the depths of his mind. This was the price for her freedom, he reminded himself. She was safe, free of the Witch's cruelty. That was enough.

It had to be.

* * *

Nick felt like throwing up but he wasn't sure his body was capable of it any more. He felt hollow, as if Nessa were slowly draining the substance from him. She had bled him dry just hours earlier and he had thought that perhaps he had finally paid enough. Yet somehow he was still alive.

_Let it be over_, he had pleaded with the gods above as she extracted his blood through the pores of his skin. The Witch had listened to him howl in agony, crooning to him to give her everything. The sound of her voice alone was enough to make him sick.

He couldn't even cry. Nessa had managed to take that away from him too. Broken sobs choked him but his eyes remained waterless. He yelled and pounded on the locked door but if there was anyone to hear his cries, they gave no sign.

* * *

Nick's skin didn't look right. The healthy tanned hue attained from years of working outdoors had faded and been replaced with a sickly, mottled gray. It didn't feel right either. The flesh no longer gave freely when he touched it. It was firmer… harder.

Hunger had also deserted him. His stomach, which had been in knots and begging for sustenance, had slowly quieted. It was quiescent, no longer rumbling and aching with deprivation. Lying on his belly on the floor, the rock hard against his cheek, Nick stared into space. He wasn't cold or tired. He floated in a complete and disorienting absence of sensation. His heart was still beating, though how that was possible he didn't know. It was the only thing keeping him sane.

* * *

Nessa placed him in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror, standing at his shoulder as he stared in mute horror at his reflection. She smiled that terrible smile, her hand sliding from his shoulder and down his arm.

"You are a masterpiece, Nicholas," Nessa purred proudly.

"What have you done to me?" he croaked, his voice cracking.

The image staring back at him was alien in all but shape. Hair once brown was a smoky black. Skin once brown from long hours in the sun glinted dull metallic silver in the light. He looked like a statue that had been brought to life.

Dear gods, his eyes. What had she done to his eyes? The blue Nimmie had loved was gone. In its place was a strange lavender color.

"This body will never age, never tire," Nessa whispered into his ear, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "You are what so many of your kind have wished to be." Her voice dropped lower. "Indestructible."

"Why?" Nick asked, aghast.

"Why not?" Nessa replied, looking very much like a cat that had gotten the cream. "You gave me your life. It is mine to do as I will. _This_ is my will."

The Witch's voice had hardened. Nick tried to get a hold of himself, knowing she would not hesitate to lash out if he did not appear properly grateful for the 'gift' she had given him.

* * *

At long last, Nessa allowed him to move freely in Delathrin. Now that he was finished, he was given the basic right to wander through the underground stronghold like any other servant. He felt the stares of the other slaves as he was given tasks to complete suited to his new status, as it were.

The Witch had been right. He didn't need to sleep any more. He didn't need to eat. He no longer felt pain. He could work from sunup to sundown and through the night without any hint of fatigue.

But he didn't.

Nick explored instead, trying to figure out exactly how the rooms moved and when and why. He ventured into the corridor that supposedly led to the way out and found the old tales were right. What had been a long straight passage when he entered had morphed into a winding, never-ending puzzle of tunnels and turns that led to dead end after dead end and finally took him back to the beginning. The Labyrinth was holding him prisoner and Nessa didn't have to lift a finger.

* * *

Nick knew that the Witch had appeared when the slaves across from him cringed, trying to make themselves as small as possible to avoid her notice.

"Nicholas."

He knelt before her as he had been taught. He had learned long ago that others would be punished for his failure to show proper respect.

"Rise," she commanded him. He obeyed and found her holding a gleaming axe. She held it out to him. "Take it."

The axe settled easily into his grip, the weight and balance impeccable. He gave her a questioning look.

"You are a woodcutter. Do your job." Nessa glanced to his right. "Mariah, you will guide him."

"Yes, mistress," the woman said quickly.

The Witch was gone as quickly as she had come.

"What does a Witch want with wood?" Nick asked as Mariah scrambled to her feet and gestured for him to follow her. The woman was in her fifties and remarkably spry considering she had spent her life at hard labor.

"It's not for her," Mariah quickly explained. "It's for us. She doesn't feel the cold. She lets us out to get food, wood, clothes… Having her servants die would be inconvenient for her."

Nick frowned but didn't argue. To see the sky again, to feel the wind and hear the leaves. It was all he had wanted since he had exchanged his life for Nimmie's. That… and escape. Here was his chance, handed to him on a silver platter. She had even given him a weapon.

Mariah gathered a shawl and her shoes and led him unerringly through the Labyrinth.

"You know the way?" Nick asked, genuinely surprised.

"Only when it stops shifting," Mariah replied quietly as they approached the portal. "It moves unless _she_ tells it not to."

That certainly explained how Nimmie had been able to come and go. Nick stepped through the gateway and took a moment to savor the sensation of sunlight caressing his new skin before he moved on, the axe slung across his shoulder.

* * *

Nick made quick work of the tree he had selected, bringing it down with a minimum of fuss. It came down with a groan and Mariah jumped as it hit the ground. She circled him warily as he worked, lopping off branches and chopping the tree into smaller, manageable sections.

"Your skin…" Mariah began nervously, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Is it hard, like metal?"

Nick paused. "Almost," he said gruffly after a moment's thought. "Can't cut through it." Which was as good as admitting that he had tried.

They both lapsed into silence after that. The older woman settled for fluttering around him while he did his job. He was at it for about an hour before he stopped.

"I think that ought to do you for a while," Nick decided, glancing at the piles that had built up.

"All right, we'd better start taking some back," Mariah said but Nick didn't move. She glanced at him, her brow furrowing at his inactivity. "We should hurry."

When Nick didn't reply, she met his eyes and shook her head much as Nimmie had when he had bargained with the Witch.

"Nick, please don't try what I think you're going to try," Mariah urged him, fear making her grey eyes water. "She won't let you go."

"You could come with me," he offered but Mariah went white at the mere suggestion. Visibly trembling, the older woman gathered up an armful of wood and scurried back towards the portal.

With one last sympathetic look at the slave, Nick snatched up the axe and ran.

* * *

Nick felt it in his bones – the rumbling in the skies that heralded the oncoming storm. He looked up to find black clouds rolling in from the east, lightning striking down with a vengeful shriek. He was sprinting, flying over the forest floor, and deep down he knew it wasn't fast enough. It would never be fast enough.

His heart, the only piece of humanity left to him, was pounding in alarm. The wind rose to a scream, the thunderheads blocking out the sun.

"_You!_"

The voice crashed upon him like a wave of fury, heralding the rain. It came down in sheets, sluicing over his body and his eyes. The ground beneath his feet became slippery, his feet sinking into the mud. He stumbled and scrabbled for purchase, finally crashing down an embankment and skidding to a stop against a tree stump.

Getting up onto his hands and knees, Nick wiped mud out of his eyes and tried to get his bearings. It was no use of trying to outrun her. He could feel her power crackling all around him, as if she was breathing down his neck.

Nick blinked when he realized he couldn't have been more than fifty yards from a ramshackle log cabin.

No sooner was he on his feet than lightning came down once again, striking him squarely between the shoulder-blades. His whole body seized up, his limbs shaking from the impact of the electricity sizzling through him. He could smell his clothes burning despite the rain.

When the lightning abated, he was on his knees once more. The Witch stood over him, untouched by the storm save for the wind whipping at her hair and skirts, rage written across her beautiful features.

"Get up," Nessa snarled and his body obeyed, the Witch pulling the strings with her magic. He stood there like a puppet, waiting for her to make him move. She stepped closer until her face was a mere inch away from his. "It seems I made a mistake, woodcutter," she growled. "I should have taken your heart as well."

Nick's eyes widened as her open hand slammed into his chest and his torso seemed to explode in agony he had thought he was immune to. He screamed, his voice lost in the roar of the tempest around them. His vision went white and when it was finally over, Nick's body froze completely, every muscle going rigid. He couldn't blink. He couldn't even breathe. He could see and hear but all else was lost to him. He was a statue, trapped by her magic.

And he could no longer feel his heart beating.

The Witch let a handful of ashes scatter to the winds.

"You're going to stand here until the day I die," Nessa promised, her voice darkening with menace as she circled him. "And that, foolish boy, will be a _very_ long wait."

Nick heard something behind him click three times and Nessa uttered "Delathrin".

Then she was gone and he was alone.

_FIN_

**A/N:** "Loreley" is actually the root word of "Lurline", which I thought was cool. If anyone is interested in seeing what Nick, Nimmie and Nessa look like, there's a link at the bottom of my profile page.


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